


Shimmering Water

by Fetishes



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom England (Hetalia), Crossdressing, M/M, maid outfit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 08:20:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29914047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fetishes/pseuds/Fetishes
Summary: Alfred loses a bet with France. Fortunately for Arthur, the punishment is a maid dress.
Relationships: America/England (Hetalia)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	Shimmering Water

Although America enjoyed seeing England so happy, it was negated by the embarrassment of everyone staring at him in a maid dress. Infact, Arthur's happiness only fueled his anger. Seeing him flit around, tossing indiscreet, indecent, lustful looks his way, was plain annoying. They were in a meeting, for shit's sake, the man should learn some self-control.

"Hoo, hoo, America," France said from behind him. Alfred's mood only blackened at the sound, his eyebrow twitching downward as a scowl worsened his features. He turned around sharply, glaring at France. "What? Why are you looking at me that way?"

"Don't act innocent, bastard," Alfred muttered under his breath. France smiled innocently, placing his hand behind his ear, leaning forward with a happy hum. America didn't want to clarify, but at France's annoying insistence, he complied. "You know why."

"Ah," France said slowly, leaning back with a smug grin. "The dress, no? I see."

He leaned forward, grabbing Alfred by the shoulder to tug him forward. 

"Won't it help?" He looked over his shoulder, to where England talked happily with Japan. "With your _petite femme de ménage?"_

"We don't need help," America said, ruffled at the insinuation that their relationship could be perceived in any way other than healthy and loving. "We're fine."

France shrugged, "Well, it is still very entertaining," he laughed, walking away. "It seems I am not the only one who thinks so."

Alfred insecurely looked out at the room, nearly every nation was staring at him. He hunched his shoulders and took his seat beside Canada and Mexico.

❧

Things at England's home were not much better. The staring had increased tenfold, but at least England was the only one. (That is, if it was true his friends were simply imaginary. Alfred liked to think so.)

Apparently, Alfred hadn't left any clothes at Arthur's house during his last visit. England had explained such to him, but was flighty and not too convincing. Nevertheless, Alfred decided he would own it. At least, in the presence of his lover, there could be no judgement. Perhaps, maybe, an odd investment in the way Alfred's thighs peeked through the area between where his black dress stopped and his white stockings began. 

They had decided to watch a movie together, America got to choose. A loud, bright, action movie will do. That way, England's attention would be encased with explosives and babes and not the embarrassing, delicate Mary Janes America was forced to wear. 

Regardless, America felt Arthur's eyes burn into his skin at every waking moment. It wasn't uncomfortable, but he wished he could absorb his attention like this outside of a maid outfit. 

The worst came to head when Alfred got up to fetch them drinks, hoping to escape the incessant staring. He had tripped over a rumbled rug and spilled their beverages all over the plush floor. Expecting a helping hand from England, instead he… er…

"Is it not a maid's job to clean up such messes?" England happily supplied, facing burning ruddy at the thought. America scowled. "I suppose, since this _is_ my house, I'm your Master, am I not?"

"... I suppose," America answered unwillingly. "But I am _not_ a maid, am I? I suppose if that were your line of thinking, I'd be a true ghost come every October thirty-first."

"Can't you play along?" Arthur scoffed irritably. 

"I could," Alfred smirked, standing up from his place on the floor. "But I think it would be funner to do something like this, instead."

America launched forward, encasing Arthur in his arms, kissing him quickly before throwing him over his shoulder. England pounded on his back, yelling at him to _put me down this instant!_

Arthur's face was red as Alfred pushed him to the bed. He barely had a moment to protest before Alfred's lips were on his. He felt shuffling above him before America pulled away. Arthur's eyes were drawn to his dick, red and raring to go. Tentatively, he reached up to stroke it, thumbing the head and the vein along the bottom.

"Would you service me, _Master?"_ Alfred taunted teasingly, shuffling forward to press the head of his cock up against Arthur's lips. England glared up at him, lips quivering nervously before he complied. Alfred grunted shortly as Arthur's lips wrapped around his dick, tongue poking out to lave the underside with saliva.

America brought a large hand around Arthur's head, twining his fingers through the sand-blond hair. He helped England along, encouraging his head forward with a gentle push. Arthur's hands came up to grip at Alfred's hips, although he didn't push away. Alfred supposed it was a precautionary measure, he had fucked Arthur's face without abandon once before, and though it was pleasurable in the moment, it had left Arthur's throat impaired.

Alfred was dragged from his thoughts with the feeling of Arthur's thumb and forefinger encasing the base of his cock. England leaned forward further, swallowing pleasantly as he opened his eyes to stare into Alfred's. America's head fell back as he pushed in further. He felt Arthur pause and worried he went too far, until he felt Arthur's nose press against his stomach. He groaned, relishing the feeling of his entire dick pulsating inside Arthur's mouth, the feeling of Arthur swallowing around it, the feeling of him struggling to take it. 

Arthur pulled back, sucking in a breath through his nose. Alfred smirked as he brought his head back up, stroking his blond locks with the pad of his thumb. He moved his hips slowly, pulling back in tandem with Arthur. England let go, licking the head of Alfred's dick slowly before pressing sweetly a kiss. He closed his eyes as he took Alfred's cock back into his mouth. 

America locked both his hands around the back of Arthur's head and pushed it forward. He felt England choke and brace his hands against his hips, eyes snapping open. Alfred grabbed the sides of Arthur's head, pulling him back quickly before letting him go and flop backward onto the bed. England rolled onto his side, bringing his hand up to his mouth to cough and pull his legs up to his stomach. He snapped his head to glare at Alfred, who had also fallen onto his back. 

He watched as Alfred drew his own legs up, pulling his panties off before focusing on the hem of his dress. Arthur scrambled forward.

"You're not taking this off," he demanded, brows furrowing angrily. America looked forward at him, amused. His expression fell, however, seemingly when he had realised Arthur was serious. His brows drew up before he groaned and fell back once more, his arms spread out and legs straightening outwards. 

"Ugh, seriously?" He complained, shuffling onto his stomach. "If I fuck you in this it'll get all sweaty and ruined, it'll be better if I take it off."

"I can wash it," Arthur reasoned, pushing himself up and onto his knees. He crossed his arms. "Or, if it's truly ruined, you'll never have to wear it again."

Alfred's eyebrows raised before he smirked mischievously. "That sounds like a plan," he laughed as he pushed Arthur violently onto his back again. 

"Idiot!" Arthur yelled, drawing his legs up once more. He kept them shut tight despite Alfred's attempt to pry them apart. "Stop treating me so rough!"

"It's going to get rougher from here, baby," Alfred sang huskily, eyes lidding as his irises darkened. "Better get used to it– guh! Spread your legs already!"

Stubbornly, Arthur refused, simply crossing his arms over his chest in sign of defiance. Alfred persisted, trying to insert his fingers between England's knees, grabbing his ankles in effort to straighten his legs out, all resulting in Arthur's steeled defense rising. Eventually, he sighed and dropped his head in resignation. 

England considered him with concern, leaning forward. Unfortunately, his legs relaxed, giving Alfred ample opportunity to spread them apart. Arthur yelped, leaning forward to push his hands against Alfred's shoulders. America captured his lips with his own, shoving his tongue between Arthur's lips. Arthur gave a muffled moan before submitting, letting himself be pushed back as Alfred pulled off his shorts. 

He felt Alfred's cock between his thighs, rubbing back and forth against his own clothed member. He moaned between kisses, feeling Alfred's large hands trail up his hips, pushing his sweater up to his collarbone. Arthur gripped Alfred's wrists, kissing him throughout breathy gasps and whimpers as America thumbs his nipples. 

"Alf– ha– Alfred, get on with it…" he demanded after turning his head to the side. Alfred kissed his cheek once before complying, pushing himself up to strip Arthur of his precum-and-saliva-soaked underwear. Arthur reached over, rolling halfway onto his stomach to reach into his bedside table's drawer for some lube. America took it from him with a fond smile, leaning over to press another kiss to Arthur's temple. 

England watched, his eyes dilated, as Alfred poured a generous dollop of lube across his fingers. His eyes closed as Alfred pressed one to his entrance, eagerly pressing in. Arthur's face scrunched, the bridge of his nose rumpling. He grunted shortly, reaching out for Alfred's free hand to grasp onto. America acceded, twining his fingers with Arthur's own as he pressed another finger into his partner. 

England let his head fall back, teeth clenching in pain. Alfred didn't notice, focusing on how hot and tight he was inside. His mind wandered from preparing Arthur to relishing how it might feel when he was finally up inside him again. He registered with a grin as Arthur's hips bucked forward, his teeth parting with a pleasured groan. Alfred crooked his fingers to the specific point, watching dazed as Arthur's chest rose and fell quickly with pants and moans. He leaned forward to kiss the underside of his jaw as he added the third and final finger. 

England's fingers pressed into Alfred's hand near-painfully, he writhed in place as America pulled and pushed his fingers in and out quickly. His leg twitched as America dug his fingers into his prostate once more, pressing against it hard before pulling out fully, wiping his hand across his apron. 

Arthur reached forward to grab his wrist, "Don't ruin it on purpose, you twat," he said darkly. Alfred laughed, having reached forward to grab the small bottle of lube to pour into the palm of his hand. He smirked and licked along his top row of teeth as he wrapped his own hand around his dick, spreading the cool substance with a moan. 

He coated it fully quickly, eagerly, before lining it up to Arthur's entrance. England keened as he pushed in, mouth stretching to a toothy grimace. He gasped as America sheathed himself fully inside, eyes snapping to where their hips met, Alfred's apron bunching up and flowing over Arthur's own hips.

"Y'alright?" Alfred asked through a gasp. A bead of sweat dripped from his hairline to down his jaw. Arthur gulped, swallowing his own spit that had flooded his mouth, and nodded. 

"I–… I am," he affirmed shakily, feeling Alfred's fingers tighten around his own. America nodded, blue eyes trailing to where Arthur's own lay. He smiled fondly. 

"Looks silly," he breathed through a chuckle. Arthur smiled along with him. "Looks like you should be the one wearing this."

England nodded mindlessly, hoping it would egg Alfred on. In some way, it did. Alfred pulled out slightly, snapping his hips forward in a quick burst before repeating. Arthur gasped.

"I bet you'd look really pretty in something like this," America cooed, eyelids growing heavy. England's mouth hung open as he stared into Alfred's eyes. His leg twitches before he's compelled to bring it up to relax around Alfred's back. "Too bad I'm the one wearing it, huh?"

Arthur gulped again, "If you keep it I can put it on later," he advised shakily, unwittingly batting his eyes. Alfred pressed his nose against Arthur's.

"It might be too big for you," he said, smirking. He pulled out further than before, causing his thrust in to feel more intense. Arthur whimpered. "I'd prefer something more…" he thrust again, "form-fitting."

"Uh-huh," Arthur said smartly, mind fogging with the feeling of America's cock cozying up to his prostate. "Guh… faster…"

"You should buy another one, one that fits," Alfred continued calmly, speeding up like Arthur asked. England's head fell back again, providing Alfred encouragement to lean forward and kiss his throat. "You'd look so pretty."

Alfred grabbed Arthur's hips, holding him in place as he fucked him faster. The Brit cried out, eyes shutting tightly. The feeling of Alfred breaching him over and over, stretching him to his limit and beyond, better than he ever had before, spread all the way to his throat, forcing him to moan and whimper and keen. He couldn't decide if he wanted to watch to sit back, head snapping to and fro in his indecision. 

Alfred's vicious pounding grew faster and more violent with each thrust, each nip on Arthur's throat. He reached up to claw at Alfred's back, tugging on the back of his dress, finally deciding to press his forehead into the crook of his neck as his stomach tensed. He let out one more pleasured sob as he came, his seed painting his own stomach and the front of Alfred's apron. America laughed breathlessly, the sound tapering off into a groan as he thrust home once more, burying himself as deep as he could go before covering the inside of Arthur's abdomen with his cum. 

Alfred pulled out, shuffling onto his side to lay next to the comatose England. He stared up at the ceiling for a moment before shifting his gaze forward into Arthur's closet.

There hung neatly two pairs of Alfred's own slacks and three of his sweaters. He glared at England despite the warm feeling in his chest at the thought of him keeping his clothing so tidy.

**Author's Note:**

> stop ... not me posting twice in one day  
> the funny thing is, I think this one is much better than hearthside but this one took less time to write lol. Started and finished this in one day, hearthside took two. huh.  
> Notes - Petite femme de ménage - little (female) maid. I don't take french so if this is inaccurate pwease tell me :(


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